


Jezebel's Uniform

by IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow



Category: The Fall (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by BBC trailer with Stella in Uniform, Mushy, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 02:59:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2452217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow/pseuds/IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She couldn’t stay here. Not now. But she couldn’t look weak, especially not today of all days. So, she made a call. She stabled her shaking hands as she dialed the digits into her phone, pulling her heavy armor on once again.</p><p>"Ma’m?" The young voice answered; concerned and sleep laden</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jezebel's Uniform

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my lovely friend @dsuptstellagibson who inspired this prompt and patiently waited for my terrible writing skills to produce something
> 
> I can only write angst and ooey-gooey stuff lol. Get out your insulin for some hurt/comfort...with smut :3

He was in her home he night before, home being a loose term.

For the past month, the hotel room had provided all she needed- bed, table, wifi, food. The room service was an especial perk and she ran a hand through her hair, thankful that the pool was open to her to swim off her frustration and the late-night burgers.

But now she can’t stop her hands from shaking in this  _home._ This not-so-safe, once-asylum is weak. Penetrable. He could have destroyed her.

But he hadn’t.

What he had done was left a newspaper at the foot of her bed. The headlines proclaiming Annie Brawley’s death in huge black, block lettering.

He had left ‘Jezebel Red’ nailpolish on her bed side table. 

He laid her lace underwear and bra on the bed, right beside her as if it had been another person. She threw the undergarments in the trash, convincing herself not to burn them in the can. 

She couldn’t stay here. Not now. But she couldn’t look weak, especially not today of all days. So, she made a call. She stabled her shaking hands as she dialed the digits into her phone, pulling her heavy armor on once again.

"Ma’m?" The young voice answered; concerned and sleep laden

* * *

 

Dani Ferrington didn’t question DSI Stella Gibson as she slid into the car, clearly still in sleep pants and a robe- a duffle in one arm and a garment bag in another. 

She held her tongue throughout the car ride, making no mention of the time, 4:47am. Making no mention of the hands that still held tremors, despite their owner’s effort.

She’s never seen Stella Gibson look terrified before. It wasn’t something she wanted to see again. 

Her hand moved of its own accord off the steering wheel once they got to the police barracks. She hadn’t made any move since Stella kissed her nearly a week ago then proclaimed , flustered, that it never happened and would never happen again.

She expected Gibson to yank her head back, to remind her that she was a Detective Superintendent. 

But she didn’t. Instead her crystal-blue clouded eyes met with Dani’s; she looked so young staring at her with those eyes, looking so afraid.

What had petrified the ice-cold Stella Gibson?

Before she could bring voice to her question, the Detective Superintendent was out of the car and rushing into the building. 

The press would arrive in nearly 4 hours, and as she followed into the building, she found Gibson’s office door locked.

She knocked once. Twice. No answer.

She sighed. She had to let her in at some point.

Or at least come out. 

* * *

 

Detective Superintendent Stella Gibson emerged from her office in a uniform Dani had only imagined. It hugged to her curves without being explicit and showed her feminine figure while still representing strength. When her eyes finally dragged up her Superintendent’s body to her face, she only saw a mask of indifference.

 _"Compartmentalization,"_  she had whispered to Dani on that night 5 days ago, when her breath was hot on her neck and her chest heaved in anticipation.

 _"Everything goes into boxes and gets locked away, even your emotions-especially your emotions,"_  she breathed.

 _"Will you lock away your feelings for me too?"_ Dani murmured back, finding the buttons of Stella’s shirt. 

And they had stopped abruptly. Right there. 

_"Go. Please. This was a bad idea. See you tomorrow morning Constable."_

_Constable_. When just seconds before she had throatily beckoned  _"Dani"_  to her hotel room.

Stella Gibson walked past her smoothly, her compartmentalization exercise apparently complete. 

"Constable, have the press arrived?" 

"Yes, Ma’m."

And she nodded her head, uncurled locks spilling in blonde wisps over her face.

* * *

 

After the  conference, she found her in the abandoned bathroom,one she’d frequently used to change because of it’s perpetual emptiness. Stella was looking down into the sink, hands clenched around the porcelain and a manila folder, her knuckles white. 

"Ma’m?" 

Gibson looked up into the mirror and started at the woman behind her. Her blonde locks were slightly disheveled, something she knew had happened in the 10 courtesy minutes she had waited outside the bathroom.

"Dani," she spoke so softly it was nearly inaudible.She turned, still holding the folder with all of her might and took a hesitant step.

Step after step are heels clicked on the tiled floor, the sound reverberating through the bathroom. ”He’s was in my room last night,” she murmured.

"Stella?"

"He’s going to kill me."

And she placed the file into the Constable’s hand- the file that waited at her seat at the start of the conference.

Flipping it open she saw sketched lines of a talented artist. Work that could have been beautiful if not so macabre and frightening. If it wasn’t for the prone position of the woman. The arms sprawled across the bed haphazardly. The wide,dead eyes of her Detective Superintendent stating back at her.

She looked up from the sketch and into the pleading eyes of Stella Gibson.

Neither one made a suggestion but both women found themselves at the apartment of Constable Danielle Ferrington that night.

* * *

 

Dani brought blankets from her closet and opened them widely to cover the sofa, throwing the pillow she held carelessly onto the cushions.

She heard a shuffling from the bathroom where she had left Stella and finally the woman emerged, face and teeth washed, wrapped in a robe. Her milky white skin peaked from beneath the knee-length fabric, her cleavage slight.

"Dani?" She asked confidently, an eyebrow quirking in disapproval . Gone was the scared woman who trembled as she spoke about her own death. She already knew the question Gibson wasn’t going to ask, so she supplied a simple answer. 

"The bed’s made for you, ma’m. I’ll be out here if you need anything during the night." 

"We can share the bed." It didn’t sound like a suggestion and it certainly wasn’t a question. A command.

"That woul-"

Suddenly Stella’s fingers found the buckle of her bottoms. The skirt pooled onto the floor revealing a black lace thong and thin but strong thighs.

"I know it wouldn’t be wise," she sighed, taking one, then two, then three steps toward Dani, her toned muscles of her legs flexing with each movement. "But, I’ve never been wise."

 _A killer is coming to murder me,_ Her eyes spoke as she touched Dani’s hand

 _I threatened a killer and he’s going to strangle me to death,_ She didn’t have to say as she tipped her head up to press a chaste kiss to Dani’s lips.

"I was stupid to push you away," she finally does say with her throaty voice before deepening the kiss, her tongue slipping easily into Dani’s mouth. 

Stella’s eyes widen as she’s suddenly pushed backward, sliding into the dining room-wall as they stumble to the bedroom, Dani’s hands grasping her face and then her uniform as her tongue slides along the roof of her mouth.

Her agile fingers unravel the tie around the Detective Superintendent’s neck as Stella’s manicured hands work with Dani’s button up.

"So beautiful," the brunette whispers as she unbuttons the uniform top, revealing the peaks of creamy breasts. 

It isn’t long before Dani has her on the bed: straddled,and Stella’s hair is in a fan around her like a halo.

The black uniform top lies open and splayed as Stella’s arms widen and fall across the bed. Her breasts move heavily with each labored breath. 

The young woman kisses her neck first, her teeth trailing over Stella’s collar bone, eliciting a moan from the blonde. Her tongue flicks and trails onto her breast and she pushes the straps aside to get to her goal. She takes a hard nipple into her mouth, while her fingers slide into Stella’s slick folds.

"please," she breathes, her chest heaving, her eyes clouded with arousal and face flushed, "Da-Dani," she pants, thrusting her hips with each finger movement. She needed this. She needed it now. 

Dani smiles and slides her tongue from Stella’s breast and down her torso like a serpent across the taunt skin. Her hipbones jut and buck when she takes her clitoris between her thumb and forefinger, stroking it with butterfly-light touches. She withdraws her fingers and Stella briefly feels empty before Dani’s tongue enters Stella easily.

She moans and holds Dani’s shoulders as the woman laps and swirls, teasing her clitoris before finding the bundle of nerves once more and taking extra time. Her muscles spasm and she comes. Stella’s body goes rigid and stiff as she digs her head into the pillows, her hair scattered around her face. “Da-Dani,” she cries, her toes curled and her legs wrapped around the younger woman. 

When her body finally begins to relax and she can breathe normally once again, Stella pulls the black uniform top over her shoulders, suddenly feeling exposed. Dani has risen from her position at the foot of the bed and is crawling across the bed like a cat, her white dress-shirt open. It is then when Stella sees the nail marks she has left in this woman’s flesh; red and deep. Her nails. Her nails.  

She feels a sob build in her throat and she motions to leave the room. She has to get away. She needs time to compartmentalize. 

But she doesn’t get away. Instead, she’s pulled under the heavy comforter and looking into the comforting eyes of Danielle Ferrington.

And the red marks are focused. Marks that she made with her nails; marks that this woman let her make.

And she looks down at her nails, imagining them painted ‘Jezebel Red’ after he murders her. 

And she begins to sob, Dani pulling her close into her arms under the covers. 

"I’m here, Stella," she whispers into her hair. 

"I don’t want to die," she weeps, mourning all that she has lost in life for the pursuit of  _this life._

And Dani can’t tell her that she won’t die, because she’s not in the business of telling lies, and she knows Stella’s not in the business of hearing them. She could die of old age; or be strangled to death by their killer tomorrow evening. 

The only thing she can do is whisper the truths she does have into her thick, blonde hair: “I love you, Stella”

A smile graces her lips when Stella’s breathing begins to settle, and her body stops shaking from sobbing. She needed this.  _Catharsis_ , was the word she explained to her one evening after a particularly rough day. She feels the small, frail, but unbearably strong body in her arms relax, and Dani lets out the breath she was holding, happy that she hadn’t been pushed away or rejected like before. Late into the night, when Dani’s nearly asleep she hears the barely audible sound of Stella whispering ‘I love you too.’


End file.
